


It's For You

by NightmareWolf



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, Bittersweet Ending, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Headcanon, M/M, MellodraMattic - Freeform, the ending is MOSTLY happy ok, wammy's house
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2020-12-31 16:15:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21148562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightmareWolf/pseuds/NightmareWolf
Summary: The you, who was never anywhere, were on my mind to no end.The you, who is at nowhere, have tied me down to my death.





	It's For You

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: brief mentions of suicide attempt by cutting. Non-graphic.  
I got really emotional writing this so hope it's good. Pretty headcanon based around Matt's life. Hope it's not OOC, I tried lol  
Hope you like it!!  
Can be platonic or romantic, up to the reader basically

He never sat down to think about it, but Matt supposed his life was one big adventure.

It seemed that, from the day he was taken into Wammy's House, he was never given a break. He considered the day he arrived there to be a "rebirthing" of sorts. His old life had vanished, and his being was set on a new path. A very twisted, unclear path. Much like nature itself, things were very spontaneous and dangerous. So predictable, yet so unexpected...Matt could be looking at a lifetime behind bars, or a bullet to the head, and yet this is how he loved to live life. He'd rather die young than live out a long, boring existence.

And that's what Mello gave him: a life of adventure.

It was hard to recall the exact date he had met Mello; it was a long time ago. He had been taken into Wammy's House at the age of nine, after his mother died in an accident. She was his only family, and because of that, he was adopted into an orphanage. Originally not Wammy's—just some no-name, forgettable orphanage. It wasn't until the first of February—his birthday—that Wammy's took interest in him. All because that was the day he tried to kill himself. It hadn't even been three months after his mother's death that he took a pocket knife to his wrist and made one, deep horizontal cut. Honestly, if you asked Matt _why _he tried to kill himself, he couldn't tell you. Contrary to what many would think, especially given the context of his mother's death, he wasn't depressed. He didn't want to die. In fact, he wanted to live, if only to keep playing video games, which seemed to be his only comfort in the world. So, why did he attempt suicide then?

He had no clue.

But what he did know is that, after being rushed to a hospital, his orphanage was contacted by Wammy's. They said they would like him transferred over there for their special program—that they also had mental health professionals and doctors on standby if he tried hurting himself again.

And thus, his old life closed, and the doors opened on Wammy's House...

From that day on, he never saw himself as _Mail Jeevas_, rather, he was Matt. It was a clean slate; a new start. He had the entire world as his canvas, and he could make something of his life...

And yet, he had no desire to.

He didn't care to be the next L, though he had full potential to. He didn't want to help the world for the better, though he very well could. No, all he cared about were video games and his own amusement. But, how could he not? He had no family and no friends, all he _had _to care about was himself—and his Pokemon, he supposed.

And when he met Mello, it all seemed so predictable yet unexpected.

_"Hey." the voice had caught Matt off guard. Flinching, he peeked up from his Gameboy, seeing a kid—who he would've mistaken for a girl, had he not just heard his voice—standing above him, blonde hair falling over his eyes as he leaned forward and looked down at Matt. "You're Matt, aren't you?" he asked._

_Matt uncomfortably shifted. It was only his third week here, two days after all the _ _kids—including him—were given a test to take calculating their intelligence. That wasn't uncommon at Wammy's House, he found. This whole organization was obsessed with raising smart children, which Matt apparently was. He didn't care for academics or being smart, though. Even if the test was easy. Nobody had talked to him during the weeks since his arrival, why now?_

_"Yeah...who are you?"_

_"I saw you scored second on the test," the kid went on, ignoring Matt's question. He crouched down, not-so-gently grabbing Matt's hand and pulling them down, along with the Gameboy, so they made eye contact as he asked, "you must be pretty smart, huh?"_

_"I mean...I wouldn't be here if I wasn't, so..." Matt weakly shrugged, his nervous gaze trailed down to his Gameboy, and he continued playing it, even if it no longer covered his face._

_A huff—almost a scoff of laughter—emanated from the other boy. "You were only two percent behind me," he said, a glint of challenge in his icy gaze._

_Matt didn't look up. "So, you scored first?"_

_"Of course I did."_

Aren't you arrogant? _Matt had thought to himself, but did not dare to voice it aloud. "That's cool..." is what he ended up mumbling instead._

_There was a moment of silence where the only noise that could be heard was the clicking of buttons on Matt's Gameboy, along with the soft chiptune audio that accompanied it before the blonde child spoke again._

_"You know, it's very rude not to look at people when you talk to them," he informed—mockingly, almost._

_Matt huffed quietly. "It's also rude not to introduce yourself..." he grumbled without a second thought. However, Matt soon caught how, ironically, his words were rude in themselves. He _really _wasn't looking to make any enemies, and felt immediate panic rise in his chest. He looked up, eyes a bit wide, words rushing out of his mouth, "I-I'm sorry, I didn't..."_

_His voice trailed off when he saw the other kid was giggling._

_He didn't look angry or insulted. He was just...giggling."You're funny," was all he replied with, a grin wide on his face. They locked eyes for a terrifying (at least to Matt) few moments before the kid stood up, intending to leave. However, not before he said, "by the way, my name is Mello."_

Mello.

It's such a weird name, isn't it? It's not even a name. Then again, _Near _isn't much of a name either. Nor is _L_. Maybe he was the odd one out. But if that were the case, it wouldn't be the first. He _always _felt like the odd one out. He masked it under some carefree, silly facade (not to say he _wasn't _carefree or silly, just not as often as one may think), but he honestly wondered about other people's perception of him. Especially...Mello.

Mello was his first and, sometimes as it felt, only friend. It was funny how they met, looking back, with Mello taunting him and Matt himself being way too anxious to speak his mind. Had much changed, really? Well, Matt was definitely more inclined to speak his mind around Mello, but otherwise...

He guessed not.

His hands fumbled with a box of cigarettes, his dominate hand grabbing one of the sticks and his other reaching for the lighter. All the while his eyes darted to the clock, telling him it was 2:37 in the afternoon. Mello would be here in twenty minutes or so, he estimated. The other said that they were going to do an important mission together, one that would "finally capture Kira" by his words. It was a bit off-putting, though. Mello sounded unusually serious. Well, he was _usually _serious, so maybe that wasn't the right way to put it...somber, maybe?

Matt lit his cigarette, taking in a deep inhale as a sense of relief washed over him—the relief that tobacco always offered him. Yeah, yeah, lung cancer was bad and all, but since when did he care about the dangers of the world, or his health? He never did. Although, Mello did make it apparent that he didn't like the fact Matt smoked. He always disguised it as "it smells disgusting" or "it makes me cough", but Matt had been Mello's friend long enough to know complaints like these were veiled ways of showing concern. Mello was simply too proud to show affection, but he knew when the other worried for his well being. At least...he was pretty sure that's what that was.

In fact, he showed a bit of concern for him today too, didn't he? On the phone, when explaining the whole Kira plan, he had told him that this _could _be dangerous. It was odd as hell—Mello never gave him choices, usually. It was always just "do as I say" or something along those lines, but this time he had _asked _if Matt wanted to do this. Of course Matt said yes. Mello was his best friend, and what's life without danger? But that didn't stop him from finding it bizarre. He wondered—exhaling out a puff of smoke—if Mello did truly care about his well being. Surely, right? Like he said—he had known Mello long enough to understand his complaints about his smoking habits were out of concern, and he _did _seem genuinely worried today...but there were also other explanations. Maybe he really _did _just hate the smell of cigarettes. Maybe he asked Matt if this plan was okay to make sure his partner was willing to put 100% effort into this.

But Matt refused to go with those latter explanations, because if he did, it would mean Mello didn't give a shit about him.

And he didn't know if he could live with that.

Matt easily put out his cigarette with his hand, considering he was wearing gloves. Honestly, it'd be weird if he _wasn't _wearing gloves. He had these things on just about all the time, much like his goggles. He didn't know why entirely; maybe for the aesthetic. They weren't particularly necessary for his job of part-time hacker all-time gamer, but he supposed he wore them because...

_"Happy Birthday, Matt!"_

_The cheery sounding call echoed throughout the empty corridor. Matt looked up from where he was sitting under the window, watching Mello—who was fourteen—running over to him. Indeed, Matt was thirteen now, but it wasn't his birthday. Today was the tenth of March—his birthday would've been a month ago._

_As if reading his mind, Mello said, "yeah, I know today isn't really your birthday, but you've never told anybody what your birthday is before." he crouched down, feet planted on the ground firmly in front of Matt as he crossed his arms on his knees. "Gonna tell me what it is?"_

_Matt stared at him in response. Predictably, he stayed silent._

_Mello huffed. "That's what I thought," he replied back in response to the silence. "So, I'm just gonna say today is your birthday, alright? Cuz it'd be weird if you didn't have one."_

_"Oh." Matt didn't know how to feel about suddenly having a birthday chosen for him out of the blue like this, but he supposed no harm came from it. He set aside his Gameboy Advance, grinning at Mello. "Did you get me a present?" he asked cheekily._

_Mello stuck his tongue out. "Duh, moron. I wouldn't have made a up a birthday for you if I didn't."_

_Matt chuckled. "I guess you're right. Aren't I lucky, though? Who knew Mello gave people presents?" he rhetorically teased, applying the use of third-person speaking to amplify his playful jest._

_"Don't push your luck," Mello huffed. Matt just chuckled again._

_Reaching behind him, Mello pulled out a skinny, long box. He must have set it behind himself when he crouched down, because Matt hadn't noticed it. Regardless of that, his interest was piqued almost instantly. He wondered what the hell Mello would've gotten him—probably not a video game; the other always thought he had too many to begin with. Plus, where would he have gotten the money? Lifting the lid of the cardboard box off, he was presented with two long leather gloves neatly stacked; they both looked like they could reach his elbow in length. Matt enthusiastically pulled them out, his hands grazing against the smooth, black material. It was rough, but in the good way. He traced a finger along the seem between the back and front of one of the gloves, eagerly beginning to put both of them on over his hands and long-sleeve shirt. They felt nice and secure, and Matt hadn't realized he was grinning until his cheeks began to hurt._

_"They are so cool!" he exclaimed to Mello._

_"I know, right?" Mello snorted with amusement, a look of both pride and happiness strewn on his face. "I...thought you would like long gloves since it would cover your wrist, and all..."_

_Matt blinked, looking down at his right arm. It most certainly would cover his wrists, considering the glove reached all the way up to his elbows. He smiled, this time a less giddy and more content smile. "I do like them a lot. Thank you, Mello."_

_"Y-Yeah, whatever," Mello stuttered, and it was hilariously obvious to Matt the other was flustered. His face was heating up. "How about you try actually wearing a T-shirt for once now?" he added on in the more mocking-ish tone he was known for._

_And Matt couldn't help but giggle about it, because he was so damn happy. "I guess I'm obligated to now."_

Yes, his gloves were pretty old now, he admitted. Six years old, to be exact. They certainly weren't in the best shape that they were six years ago, but Matt still enjoyed them just as much.

Thinking of that memory made him smile. Mello obviously cared about him, why else would he declare a birthday for him? Or get him such a cute gift?

And though it made sense, Matt still couldn't help but wonder if that were just the past. They were kids, after all. Kids in an orphanage who had to come to terms with the fact that they were alone. Kids who always had to try their hardest just to reach this stupid ideal of becoming like L. It would make sense, for any kid in that situation, to seek out friendships and compassion. Something to latch onto. But now they were adults—_Now _they were in the real world, and didn't need to rely on only those within an orphanage. They had this whole planet to explore, and like an old toy, some things—some _people_—you just might outgrow.

_"You should stop visiting here so much, Matt."_

_Matt turned around from where he sat on the bed, staring out the window, to see Near in the doorway. He turned back around, away from the other._

_"Mello is gone. I highly doubt it's good for your emotional health to spend so much time in his room."_

_Matt gritted his teeth. He wanted to get angry. He wanted to tell Near to shut up, that Near had no right to dictate how he acted or how he felt. Near wasn't Mello's friend, how would _he _know what it's like to lose your best friend? To know he left without even saying goodbye, barely even fifteen years old, out into the real world? He could fucking die out there! He wasn't old enough yet! And he didn't even tell Matt, he didn't say goodbye or say _anything_..._

_But Matt couldn't find it in himself to be angry at Near, because Near was right. Matt flopped against Mello's bed, his head hitting the pillow as he stared out the window. "I know," he mumbled._

_There was a brief moment of silence that felt like an eternity to Matt before he heard a soft _creek, _followed by the feeling of his legs dipping a little as the bed depressed._

_"It must be hard," Near mumbled, his delicate, pale hands brushing against the covers of the bed._

_"He didn't even say goodbye."_

_Near looked at him for a moment, but ultimately his gaze traveled back to the window._

_"I wonder if he hates me," Matt quietly spoke. "He got mad at me a lot."_

_"I find that highly doubtful," Near responded back, cool and collected as always. "Mello isn't the type to spend time with somebody he doesn't like. Maybe he got mad at you often, but isn't that just Mello being Mello?" there was a tiny smirk on Near's face as he said this, and somehow it made Matt smile, too._

_"I guess you're right about that...but I can't help but think I'll never see him again. God knows where he is..."_

_"It's been a year," Near conceded, silky white hair fluttering between his fingers. "Maybe you'll never see him again. But it's not impossible. I have the feeling that, inevitably, we'll cross paths once more. And when we do, I'll tell you."_

_It was an odd form of consolation, but Matt would take it. Near was never the kind to spout optimistic bullshit, anyway. He was always pessimistic and realistic, which somehow made hopeful things from him feel more genuine. Maybe he would find Mello some day, but even if he—or Near—did, he couldn't help but wonder if it mattered. So much would have changed. Would Mello still care about him anymore? Surely, this goal of his he was chasing meant more to him than Matt did if he left without even leaving a note or _anything_...and if that were the case, was it worth finding him?_

_"March tenth," Matt softly breathed, his voice no louder than the gentle wind._

_Near hummed questioningly._

_"Today is March tenth," Matt reiterated, a little louder but just as soft. His gaze drifted down from the window to his arms, resting on his gloves. "It's my birthday."_

_"It's...your birthday today?" Near asked, looking vaguely both confused and surprised._

_Predictably, Matt stayed silent._

An unlike Near's prediction, Matt was the first one to find Mello. Perhaps in a sick twist of fate—or mere luck—but he, starting at the age of seventeen, took up the job as a professional hacker. A grey hat, to be exact. He didn't care what job he did, whether it be legal or illegal. As long as it was fun—and he got paid—then morals had no place in the equation. He recalled how surprised he was when he was contacted by a mafia ring in L.A, requesting his services for some obviously shady business with a generous sum of money in return. Matt could care less if it were right or wrong—he took the job.

Though this job was different, and it certainly wasn't one Matt took lightly—he would have to show up in person. They wanted him to be a part of a "team" of sorts, kind of like an employee. They were after Kira, which was fine by him. He didn't give two shits about Kira personally, even after he killed L, but Kira would definitely kill Matt given he had the chance. So, getting rid of him would probably be a good idea. He agreed under the circumstance that Matt be allowed to meet the team whom he would be working with before officially joining. 

Of course, being the mafia and this case regarding Kira, he made sure to have a gun on him and to also wear his goggles—not that he _didn't _always wear his goggles, but if Kira can kill with just somebody's face then it was definitely worth the protection.

He remembered when he showed up in an abandoned lot—shady as fucking hell, of course—gun under his vest just in case. He met some really tall, strong scary dudes. Matt probably should've been scared, but he had grown use to putting his life on the line so many times already with his job, so this was no different. At first, he thought the notorious Rod Ross was the boss of things around here, but he was soon informed he wasn't. When he asked who the mafia boss was, then, he was simply told it was a man named "Mello."

And it was quite hilarious how long it took for it to click in Matt's mind. The name had made _something _in his brain go off like a batch of fireworks, his heart thumping much too fast and his head spinning way too much. All his instincts were screaming at him, and yet he, rationally, couldn't recall _why_. It wasn't until Mello himself showed up that Matt figured he must've been struck by Kira, 'cuz he swore his heart had stopped.

_"M-Mello?" the name came out weakly; it was barely a squeak. Of course he wasn't trying to make himself look like a pathetic wimp in front of one of the biggest mafia gangs in the U.S, but he couldn't stop his head from spinning._

_Mello must've not realized it yet, because his eyes narrowed with suspicion. He had this intense and venomous look—one way beyond the simple schoolyard bully he once was back at Wammy's House. Now, he actually looked a bit like a threat, and Matt didn't even know if it were safe for him to point out who he was._

_"So, this is our guy, huh?" Mello snapped a bit of chocolate off from the bar he was eating—and Matt couldn't help but smile, because he was so fucking scared and found it so fucking funny that Mello was a mafia gang leader, eating chocolate around dudes way taller than him—and looked over at Rod. "We got his name yet?"_

_"We were waiting for you, Mello," Rod explained passively. Mello just rolled his eyes._

_"Alright, whatever." he walks up closer to Matt, and—oh God—Matt doesn't think he can breathe. He feels dizzy. He can't talk. He's panicking. Fuck, this is _not _the time to have a panic attack._

_He tried focusing his mind on Mello, just the way he looks. He's pretty toned now, which Matt probably should expect given his involvement in physical crime now. He's not much taller though. In fact, Matt's now taller than him. He has a kickass leather vest, a gun on his belt, his hair is still the same as it were when he left all those years ago, as if it had somehow withstood the test of time._

_"I'm sure you could guess, but I'm Mello, head of this ring here. We're looking to catch Kira and are going to need someone who's good with tech and has a fair amount of experience with hacking. Though, I'm sure you'll do fine in that regard." his voice was smooth yet cold. It carried a sense of warning, like _"don't make wrong about you" _kind of warning. "Of course, I expect you to be able to follow all orders, no matter what, even if you get fucking killed." There was a look of challenge in his eyes—those damn icy blue eyes of his. "Got it?"_

_And of course, Matt felt paralyzed. He gulped, taking in a deep breath. "Got...Got it," he forced himself to speak, despite how numb the words felt on his lips. To show his dedication and willingness to comply—or, in reality, his desperation to get Mello to recognize him—he lifted his goggles up, resting them on top of his head. "I'm Matt."_

_That seemed to be the charm, because Matt saw Mello's eyes instantly widen. He wasn't trying to show how surprised he was, Matt could tell, but it was apparent he was just as shocked as Matt._

_"Rod," Mello suddenly spoke—his voice much too loud, making Matt's panic bubble up—and turned around. "Get everyone back to base. I'll catch up. I'm gonna talk to the new guy."_

_They all complied without a single word, getting into their respective vehicles and driving out the lot. Only one remained—a motorcycle—so Matt assumed that was Mello's ride. Pretty sweet, honestly._

_And once they were alone, Mello looked back at him. His eyes were intense and so full of emotion that Matt couldn't even begin to describe it. "So," he had began, "you're one of the best hackers in the world now, are you?"_

_"Uh...I-I...Yeah, I am." He must look really stupid, tripping over his words and stuttering. His legs were trembling and his last few ounces of rationality were getting harder and harder to hold onto. His mind was scrambling for what to do, what to _feel_—Angry? Sad? Happy? —all he was doing was panicking. Because of this confusion, because of this panic, he laughed._

_Mello didn't seem to share in his bizarre humor, though. He remained stone cold, the only emotion being that in his eyes, but not in his voice. "I want to make it clear that the rules still stand. You have to listen to me no matter what, and I don't care if you die. Got it?"_

_And something about that makes Matt flinch—hard. He wants to yell, tell him that he's a terrible friend and a shitty person, but he doesn't. He can't. Because it's Mello. "Of course," is what he ends up saying, because he's always too anxious to speak his mind._

_Mello lingered on this for a moment before turning his back, clearly indicating he was planning to jump on his motorcycle and leave. But Matt couldn't let that happen. Not again._

_"Wait!" he yells out, and Mello stops in his tracks. Matt knows he's only got the chance to ask one question, which is so _unfair_. There are so many things he wants to ask Mello; are they still friends? Why was Mello in the mafia now? Why did he leave without saying goodbye? Did he even plan to see Matt again? Did he _want _to see Matt again?_

_Did he hate Matt?_

_And he doesn't know which one to ask. His mind is blank, yet incoherent. His body is fighting against him, and he can't breathe. He can't speak. His left hand latches onto his arm and squeezes tightly to ground himself. He's breathing way too damn fast. He's so fucking dizzy. He feels so fucking sick. Each limb of his feels like static. Nothing felt real. Everything was hitting him too fast—the reality of it all was more than he could bare. He was ninety percent sure he was going to either vomit or pass out._

_And then he felt a comforting tightness._

_His breathing was still erratic, but his vision was coming back, and he saw Mello—he felt Mello—hugging him. He had his arms tightly around Matt, wordlessly embracing the other. He didn't know how to describe the hug. It wasn't necessarily a warm or loving hug, but it didn't feel like he was doing it out of obligation. Grief, perhaps? Surely, Mello missed Matt as much as Matt missed Mello? _

_But it didn't matter to him. He hugged back, letting his emotions spill out in a sob. He missed him so much. So fucking much._

_And there was a good chance Mello didn't care at all._

Things have gotten better, Matt would like to think, because him and Mello are a bit more comfortable with each other now. Matt can tease him and be silly without Mello minding, but it always seems to be somewhat tense. Things aren't as lighthearted—not as sincere—as they once were back at Wammy's House. They were no longer two best friends in an orphanage. They were just acquaintances, working on the same team. 

Matt pulled his goggles down and took off his gloves, rolling up the right sleeve of his shirt. After all these years, he was still reminded of what changed his life ten years ago. There laid one line on his wrist right below his hand. Faded, yes, but the scar was there, and it forever will be. He gently ran his fingertip across the line, shuddering at his own touch. There's something incredibly morbid about having a mark constantly reminding you of a suicide attempt. While Matt does find scars cool, he will admit that he's pretty ashamed of this one. It was a stupid decision, one that even he knew was stupid back then. There was no reason he did it; no purpose. Much like his life, and much like everything he did. There was no purpose to any of it. It just happens.

It was so predictable, yet so unexpected.

_Knock Knock._

Before Matt had anytime to register what was going on—not that it mattered—the door to the apartment room opened. In the doorway stood Mello, a motorcycle helmet in his arms.

"Hey, it's 3:00," he informed calmly. "Ready to go?"

Matt stared at him, feeling an indescribable weight in his chest before glancing back down at his wrist. He turned his arm over, not really wanting to just show it in the open.

"Mello, I want to ask you something. Are we friends?"

Mello blinked a couple of times, his facial features screwed up in bewilderment. "What are you on about?" he asked, shutting the door behind him.

"Just answer the question," Matt flatly responded.

A second of silence passed before Mello shrugged. "Well, yeah, I'm pretty sure we are."

"Why did you leave without saying goodbye?" 

Again, Mello didn't answer right away. This time, however, Mello didn't react with confusion. Rather, he looked angry. "Matt, we don't have time for this. Come on, now, we have to go."

"Yes, we _do_," Matt hissed back, his voice raising in an uncharacteristic anger. "Why did you leave without saying _anything?__"_

"You're asking that question five years too late," Mello countered back with his own venomous growl. "So just shut up about it."

Matt stood up out of his chair, hot anger pulsing inside him and hammering in his chest. "I'm asking it now because you never gave me the fucking chance to ask!" he yelled.

"You could've asked any fucking time you liked, Matt! I don't have time to deal with this shit right now!" he firmly barked back.

"You say that about fucking everything! Clearly you have the time, you just don't care!" Matt was half-tempted to go over and slap Mello, but he knew he'd never win a physical fight, so he stood his ground. "Do you know how much it fucking sucks to know your best friend doesn't give a shit about you? That your entire friendship meant absolutely nothing because he only cares about himself and he _hates _you? Just say you fucking hate me, Mello! Because I know you could care less if I died in one of your stupid plans. You care more about your ambitions than you do anyone else. I'm willing to lay down my god damn _life _for you and yet you won't even answer a god damn question...I..." Matt realized there were tears rushing down his face—a lot of tears. His entire face was wet. He brought a hand up to wipe them away but it didn't matter; more just took their place. Without realizing he had been holding it back, Matt let out a grief-stricken sob. His voice shaking. "I wish I could make you like me. I'm sorry."

With that, Matt felt like he had broken down. He began sobbing like he was a little kid again, hiccuping and slurring out a mantra of "I'm sorry." He expected to hear some yelling, or maybe get punched, but he was greeted with silence. Well, besides the sounds of his own crying.

"Matt." He heard his name being said by Mello—softly. He looked up, tears blurring his vision. "Did you honestly believe I hated you?" he asked.

and Matt couldn't have felt guiltier for being honest, because he nodded.

Mello suddenly pulled him close, embracing him tightly with a hug. Tears were still rushing down his cheeks, but he had gone quiet besides an occasional hiccup or sniffle. The hug—it wasn't out of obligation, nor did it seem entirely motivated out of grief. It felt...warm. Loving.

"I'm sorry, Matt," Mello whispered out close to Matt's ear. Matt rested his against Mello's shoulder, his body jolting as more tears flooded down his flushed cheeks.

"I'm sorry," Mello repeated. "I knew I was never the best to you, but...I never meant to make you think I _hated _you. I don't hate you. I could never..." there was a crack in his voice. He swallowed hard. "Fuck, I'm really sorry."

Matt closed his eyes, listening with a heavy heart to Mello's apologies. "Mello, I never stopped seeing you as my best friend. Not once," Matt whispered back.

"I really don't deserve that," Mello laughed huskily. "I left you without saying anything. You...You were right to be angry about that. I'm sorry I never said anything sooner. I'm...fuck, I'm just really, really sorry..." his apologies drifted off gradually and became quieter, his voice shaking with every word. Soon, Matt heard a quiet sob come from him, which was freaky as hell—he couldn't remember a time Mello apologized, let alone cried. It was so much coming down at once, and yet...

He was happy.

"I love you, Mello," Matt spoke. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"Li...Likewise," Mello sniffed, his voice trembling as another sob escaped past his lips.

And he truly was the best thing that has ever happened to Matt. Through all the grief and pain he may have caused, Mello gave Matt everything he could ever dream for: adventure, entertainment, and compassion. He would go wherever Mello went; for him, that's where home truly was. Not Wammy's House, not his old home with his mother, but with Mello.

When they were finished exchanging small affectionate words and crying, it was 3:30. Which was fine, Mello said. He wanted to leave an hour early in case something happened, so they didn't need to be worried about being late.

"Speaking of, where we off to, anyway? You never really explained the specifics," Matt pointed out when he had his goggles and gloves back on.

"Right. Technically, this is all Near's idea."

"Whooooa, working with_ Near?_ You feelin' alright, dude?" Matt asked, to which Mello chuckled.

"Yes, I'm fine. I need to do this." The words, like how they were over the phone, seemed oddly somber, and it made Matt wonder what it was about this idea that made Mello sound like that. Was it the fact he was working with Near, or...?

"Anyhow, we need to kidnap a woman directly related to Kira. I'll be doing all the dirty work, you just need to create a distraction," Mello explained to him, helmet in hand.

"Sounds easy. Why'd you say this whole thing was dangerous?"

"Well..." Mello seemed to hesitate. "This is Kira we're dealing with, so let's just be careful. You still wanna come, right?"

And to that, Matt grinned. "You don't even need to ask."

**Author's Note:**

> yeah....don't think too hard about what happens afterwards ahahaahaa


End file.
